Gladly
by PeterJack05
Summary: Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, has found refuge from his own past- living his life as quietly and as simply as he possibly can. He opens a little bar in New Orleans and offers solace and refuge for any that seeks his services. Anymore? Spoilers.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything in regards to the Harry Potter franchise. All characters belong to their own respective owners. The only thing I own is this this little storyline.

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Harry James Potter was standing behind the bar counter, listening to the light jazz music in the background as he shook the metal containers that contained the sweet potion of a Bloody Mary. He smiled as he gazed around the hall and see the space bustle with life. Creatures and muggles mingle in the dim candle light as they chose to either dance or sit wherever and whenever they want. Souls just being whatever and whoever they want. In this bar, everyone is equal and nobody is higher or lower than the other. The boundaries of white and black is gone, and what is left is grey.

Harry finished mixing the alcoholic concoction and poured it in a glass.

"Ready to serve, mademoiselle." Harry purrs, pointing a wink to a young impressionable lady. She sputters her thanks and whisks herself away, failing miserably at her attempt to hide her blush. The 27-yearold smirks. Oh, to be young and naïve again… But if someone asked him if he would return to the young impressionable 17-year-old Harry Potter, he would smile and say that he would rather be the salacious bar owner that commands fierce loyalty. He looks at the ballroom, the balconies and the long stretch of the counter. The kids are enjoying themselves, the elders are nursing a quiet drink and the music is good. Life is good and all is well.

"Can I have a mojito?" A distantly male voice asked. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighs. Grinning back at him is a Weasley; tall, buff, red-haired and covered in freckles. However, the skin that was not covered by his loose white shirt and navy jeans, revealed scars and tattoos that rippled as he moved. Harry groans as he turns and brings down the ingredients of the alcoholic potion.

"Hello there Charlie." He muttered, "If you're here to drag me back to London_"

"I will do no such thing." Charlie settles on a bar stool by the counter " I'm just here to have an innocent drink made by an old friend. " Harry grins as he turns around. The ingredients already in the shaker.

"A mojito was it?" Harry asked, leaning against the shelves of alcohols behind him.

"If it's not much trouble." A smirk tugs against his scowl.

"Oh it isn't." The provocative bartender pivots off the shelves and starts the show of shaking the metal container. His guest scans the area before his eyes lands on the raven-haired beauty.

"A nice place you've set up here." The ginger rests his hands on the counter, leaning his body forward. " I've heard things, but I didn't think it was possible." A smile tugged his lips as he saw a ruggedly handsome brunette walk out with an equally beautiful blonde.

"Well, anything is possible in the land of the free folk" Harry pours the concoction in a glass, "- especially in New Orleans." A small push and the glass slides to Charlie's open palms.

"And if they cause you any trouble with the law enforcements?" He lifts the drink to his lips.

"They face death." A cough is heard from the other side of the floor. Charlie lifts his left eyebrow in question. The bartender just shrugs.

"Do they call you Harry here?" Charlie asks, setting his glass down quietly.  
"I will always be Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived." The raven-haired answered as he flung the rug over a shoulder.

"I thought you hated that nickname."

"Well, it helps keep trouble off my property. "Harry smiles to a passing lady as he sends sparks to a nearby bartender. Leading the lady to a good drink… and possibly to a good time.

"I thought you were great at self defence." Harry turned his attention back to the ginger. Oh how much he did not know about the magical communities outside Britain. But then again, all he knew was his family and his dragons.

"Having trouble leave is great, but to have it leave and never come back on my doorstep." His eyes flickered to the opening. "It's better." Green eyes scanned every new patron that passed the threshold.  
"Well, that's reasonable." Charlie smirks as he finishes his drink. He wanted to have a proper conversation with the man in front of him, but chances never arose… until now.

"Anyways, if it wasn't about me, what brings you over to New Orleans?" Charlie smiled as he pushed the empty glass to the bartender, his fingers lightly touched the other's. Tan against pale. Blue eyes carefully looked up to the bar-owner's face, scanning for any negative reaction.

"Oh, a little bit of fun." He whispered, " A little touch of pleasure." Daringly, he slowly tangled their fingers. "Relax Harry. I'm here on vacation." He wasn't holding the hand strongly. Harry could've slid his hand out if he wanted, but he didn't. He licked his lips. "Haven't been able to have a proper one for years."

"What about after the war?" the pale hand slid out easily. "I would've thought you needed a vacation with all the funerals and pointless ceremonies." Pulling his hair tie out, Harry swiftly rearranged his shoulder length hair to a top knot. Little bits of hair soften the sharp angles on his face. Charlie desperately wanted to push a few tufts of hair behind the ears. But it's too soon.

"Nah. Its like you said- pointless." Charlie leans back. Showing that he is backing off. "Its not like they're going to come back to life and jump out of their coffins if we mourn."

Harry leans forward and rests his weight on his elbows on the bar counter. "Exactly. Which is why I am here." Charlie gulps. Cross a leg over the knee, and clears his throat.

"Making drinks and setting up refuge in one of the most openly magical communities in the world?" His deep voice hides his urge to laugh. "You're a little peculiar." Harry licks his top lip, grabs the empty glass and stands up.

"I'm done with being the pure goody two-shoes." He fills up the sink and starts to lightly rinse the glass. "Maybe I just wanted to be bad for once." The glass clinks. The drying rack drips above the sink.

"Taste the darkness?" Charlie asks.

"Yeah."

"Watch out world, we have another Dark Lord in the brewing. " Charlie grins.

"Maybe I should. " Harry slides the rag off his shoulder and picks up the glass. "At least it'll stop making youngsters crashing my poor little bar." he looks up to Charlie. " Want another drink?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Its on the house."

"I am honoured."

After a couple more drinks, Charlie keeps on talking with the interesting acquaintance. After a couple of persistent regulars and a handful of pleasant conversation with Harry's friends and acquaintances, Charlie barely noticed how much time has gone by until he noticed just how quiet the space has become. Chairs were already pushed in, the band has packed up, the bartenders and waiters have already left. Leaving Charlie Weasley and Harry Potter in their little pod of pleasant conversation.

Harry smiled as he stood up, ducked under the counter and pulled out his leather jacket and cross body bag.

"Are you free tomorrow?" He slipped his jacket on, zipped it up and slung the bag on. The strap resting comfortably across his chest and on his shoulder.

"I don't have any plans at the moment. " Charlie leaned back as Harry placed a hand on the counter and reared his body back.

"The bar isn't open till noon tomorrow." His body flew over the counter. "Do you want to have breakfast?" He landed lightly on his feet and straightened his appearance.

"Wouldn't you want to sleep in? You close at 10. " Charlie chuckles as he checks his watch. A Weasley heirloom that was passed down from his grandfather.

"Oh I'm young and want to have some fun. " Harry laughs. He turns around. He looks straight at Charlie and whispers, "So, I'll meet you at 8?"

"Gladly."


End file.
